


Rocky Beach

by QueerSherlockian (Anglophile_Fiend)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hawaii, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Surfing, Unilock, coarse language, implied drowning, surfer!lock, surferlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anglophile_Fiend/pseuds/QueerSherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of Brit college students, sharing a flat in Hawaii for the renowned surfing, which they do together every morning, but this one's different from all the rest. This day will change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocky Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Anon request for surferlock with hurt/comfort.

“Get up John! We must leave now!” Sherlock shouted as he barged into John’s small bedroom. “The waves are supposed to be killer today, and I have no desire to miss them. Up, up!”

“It’s four am.” John groaned loudly, and pulled a sheet over his head. “No. Sorry mate, I’ve got a big test this afternoon.  I already told you I’d be studying today, or have you forgotten what matters?”

  
“Oh, I must’ve deleted it” Sherlock said with disdain. “Unimportant.” He walked over to peel John’s covers down, exposing his face to the light, and giving him a manic grin. “What matters, is that ten foot swells were reported on Rocky Beach, two minutes ago, and if you don’t hurry up we’re going to miss them!”

 

John closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine you win. I don’t know why I bother to argue, it’s always your way.” He gives another smaller groan, and flings off the sheet, revealing a straining pair of red y-fronts.

 

Whipping around, and clearing his throat audibly, Sherlock heads back into the living room. “I’ll just...um...ah...get our boards loaded.”  Not thinking about John’s strappingly fit body, with it’s dusting of golden hair, across beautifully tanned skin- or the hefty bulge in those red underpants.

 

Nope, Sherlock wasn’t thinking about any of that, his board shorts just became tighter for some inexplicable reason, something totally unconnected with his housemate John H. Watson. He wasn’t suddenly dry-mouthed due to John, the UofHM med school student.

 

John, who slaved away every night at his desk, in their tiny apartment, while Sherlock sailed through his own undergrad work in Chemistry. John, who’s smile lit up a room, and always made him the perfect cup of tea. No, thinking of none of that.

 

Sherlock could have gone to any University in the world, but no where else had the waves that Honolulu did. It’s what brought both of them to the islands from their home in cold and drizzly England. Sherlock went out to catch waves every single day, and since John had moved in, he’d joined each morning.

 

Sure, there were mornings that Sherlock had to throw a bit of a tantrum to get John up, but he always gave in. Which is also what led to John exclusively doing the shopping, the wash, and all the cleaning around the messy flat. It’s not that Sherlock’s incapable of such tasks, he just didn’t want to do them. He’d rather spend his time trying to find the perfect wave.

 

John slides into the passenger seat of the beat up Ford truck, surprising Sherlock out of his mind palace. “We goin’ or not Sherlock?” John questioned the stilled, and much paler man, whose hand was poised over the ignition.

 

“I trust by your extended shower that you’ve taken care of your ‘carnal’ functions.”

“Sherlock, if you’re asking if I rubbed one out in the shower...the answer is fuck yeah. Every morning. Who doesn’t jack off in the shower?”

“You constantly surprise me John.” Sherlock said in amusement as he started the truck and headed out in the dark, towards the best surfing spot in the area.

 

John scooted closer to Sherlock, crossed his arms, and laid a head gently on his shoulder. “Mmm, still sleepy. I’m going to nap on you, mmmkay? Wake me up when get there. He felt Sherlock tense up as he invaded his space. John didn’t acknowledge it, but instead, waited to see if he’d protest. When he didn’t say a word after a beat, they both let out the breaths they’d been holding, and John relaxed into the crook of Sherlock’s neck with a soft hum.

 

Sherlock couldn’t stop grinning the entire drive down the coast. He almost hated to arrive at the parking lot, but the waves came first. “John.” He shook his shoulder. “John, we’re here, wake up.”

 

John winked his eyes open, and gave a large stretching yawn. “Let’s roll.”

They got out of the truck and performed a dance they had done each morning for months now. They checked and prepped their boards. Then stripped down to nothing, just before pulling on skintight wetsuits. Both young men always made a valiant effort not to check out the other one’s nakedness during this moment, but they always failed spectacularly.

 

This time however, was different, this time they simultaneously caught each other staring. Silvery-green and sky-blue eyes locked middres, and instinctively both leaned in towards one another. Then a car drove by, parking loudly in the gravel next to them, shattering the moment. They continued into their suits, without comment about the sparks that had so obviously just passed between them.

 

Sherlock was first to grab his board, and trot of towards the water, but John was, as always, right on his heels. John let out a whoop as they hit the water, diving underneath the oncoming crash of water, and popping up in a deeper section of the ocean.

 

“Why do I ever fight you on this Sherlock?” John asks as they paddle farther out into deeper waters. “It’s magnificent out here. Makes me never want to go back to London.”

“Well John, that’s obviously because-”

“No, Sherlock. That was rhetorical. Forget about it.”

Sherlock shrugged and continued to power his arms smoothly in and out of the water. Giving soft kicks, as they swam bellies on their boards, until finding a spot big enough for the pair of them to slot in among the throngs of surfers who’d also heard the news about today’s swells.

 

“Oh look who decided to grace us with his presence. The Pale Freak of Baker Street.” Yelled a nearby surfer. They could barely make out faces in the pre-dawn light, but the voice was unmistakably Sally. There was on occasion, some tension between native-born islanders and newcomers, but few had been as blatantly hateful as Sally Donovan.

 

Sherlock of course, took the bait, “Well I had to come Sally, couldn’t miss seeing proof of you cheating on your idiot boyfriend.”

She swam closer, “Cheating, what are you talking about? I’d never cheat on Bruno!”

“The fact that you’re using Phil’s longboard would suggest otherwise. It obvious that you spent the night at his place, and didn’t want to waste time going home to get one of yours, before heading out here.”

 

“You know what, fuck you Freak! You don’t know shit.” She shouted over her shoulder, and paddled off into the distance, fading into the raft of surfers waiting for the next big swell.

Sherlock looked to John and saw he was slumped over his board. “JOHN, are you alright? John, John!” He said to his heaving back.

 

John finally picked up his head, and it was obvious that he was shaking heavily. “You...embarrassed the fuck out of her. That was so classic. I love when you do that.” John barely eked out, in between rolls of raucous laughter. He thrashed his feet, and slapped the water. “The best Sherlock, you are the absolute best thing ever. Ahh, I love you.”

 

As soon as the words left his lips, John regretted them. He clamped his mouth shut, eyes bugged out of his head, and he didn’t dare move a single muscle, as his brain raced to recover from the faux pas, of revealing too much. “Ha ha. I mean really, I love you man, let’s catch some sweet rides today, huh?” The words sounded as awkward and forced as they were.  

 

Sherlock just stored the data, and swung his board around to catch the swell he’d seen in the corner of his eye. “Going for one now!” He called out excitedly, as he started paddling hard to catch up to the powerful wave heading right towards him. His arms and legs moved through the water with ease, and when the moment felt right, he tensed all his muscles and popped up to squat on his board.

 

His toes gripped the slick surface, and his calves pumped hard into his heels, stabilizing the rest of him, which was gyrating in small circles, arms down, head forward, eyes on the shore. He flexed his strong thighs, one then the other, twisting and shifting his weight in order to take advantage of the energy surging through the water.

 

The exhilaration of catching a wave, was never the same, but always thrilling-as the adrenaline pumping through his veins would attest. He stayed upright, until he could see the sandy bottom, and hopped off into the water with a small splash. He stood up, and dragged his board onto shore to watch the rest of the surfers come in.

 

Sherlock dug his board upright in the sand, and ran a hand through his black curls, fluffing them gently, while staring out on the horizon, scanning for one rider in particular. The sun was finally peeking out, and it warmed him enough to make goose bumps pucker his flawless ivory skin.

 

John was always lamenting about how impossible it was that he never burned, but remained as pale as an Anne Rice vampire. Sherlock would certainly never reveal that it was due to his frequent purchase of high SPF sunscreen, applied liberally, and in private. A glint of blonde caught his eye, and he found John atop what had to be the largest wave he’d seen in ages. Everyone on the beach quieted down, and stared at the few brave souls who attempted to tame the enormous wave.

 

Hands clenched at his sides, Sherlock watched John expertly navigate the treacherous curl, but nearby was another surfer that he didn’t recognize, and this person was wildly out of control. Before Sherlock could utter a sound, he realized what was about to happen.

 

“JOHN WATCH OUT!”

 

But the shout was hopeless, they were too far away, and Sherlock was forced to watch the drama slowly unfold before him, as the strange surfer plowed into John. He was breathless as he saw John’s body flying up above the horizon, before slipping from view into the depths of the sea. A howl tore through Sherlock as he raced alongside everyone else down to the water's edge.

 

Two local guys that Sherlock knew but had deleted their names, dragged John’s limp body from the water onto a dry area. Feet churning up the moist sand, Sherlock ran as fast as he could over to them.

“John, John!” He called out as he fell to his knees beside John’s prone figure. “He’s not breathing.” Sherlock snapped at everyone surrounding them, and dove down to breathe into John’s mouth. He gave two quick breaths, and then looked to see if anything happened.

When his chest refused to move, Sherlock shifted over and gave him fifteen chest compressions. All while chanting, “Come on John, wake up John. John come back to us, Please John, please.”  At the end of the cycle, he bent down to give another two breaths. When he finished the second one, John surged forward, water spilling from his mouth, as he coughed and sputtered back to consciousness.

 

“Keep coughing John, you’re okay.” Sherlock was oddly consoling, rubbing John’s back in soothing circles, as John rolled on to his side. “Towel please.” Sherlock barked to no one in particular. Someone placed a fluffy beach towel into his outstretched hand, and he lowered it to dry a side of John’s face, while he curled up in the fetal position. “Everything's alright, John” They were then surrounded by EMT’s and Paramedics. Who shoved everyone away, but let Sherlock stay, when they saw the protective gleam in his eye.

 

They had assessed the situation in a timely manner and began loading both John and the surfer who caused the problem, (people were calling him Jimmy), into the ambulances.  “I’m coming with you.” Sherlock commanded to the men and women who were strapping John into place.

“Are you family sir?” One of them asked him skeptically.

“Yes. That’s _my_ John.”

The same man, quirked a grin and replied with a chuckle, “Well, hurry on up here kid.”

Sherlock wasted no time in climbing in, and held John’s weak hand all the way to hospital.

“How are you doing John, are you okay?” Sherlock asked, and John nodded behind his new oxygen mask, in reply.

Sherlock ran a hand through his short blonde, sand-filled locks. “Everything's going to be okay, you’re going to be fine. Just rest now, close your eyes.” He gave John’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and watched as he instantly fell asleep. Sherlock wouldn’t be parted from John, and even when John was admitted, Sherlock scared most of the nurses away, so that John wouldn’t be bothered.

 

Hours later when John awoke, a warm smile spread across his face as he spied the mop of curls pressed up against his thigh.  Sherlock's wetsuit was peeled down to the waist, but thankfully looked dry. He was overjoyed to see Sherlock still by his side, but even moreso, seeing as how Sherlock was comfortable enough to fall asleep in a chair pulled up next to his bed, and still holding tightly to John’s hand. 

 

“Sherlock, Oh Sherlock.” John murmured.

“Mmm...John! You’re awake, are you alright? How do you feel? Tell me John!” Sherlock pleaded as he rubbed a misty eye.

“Sherlock, I’m okay. I’ll be fine. What did the doctors say?”

“The same, they said you’ll have no long term ill effects, and you can go when they finish this round of IV fluids.”

 

“Good, well…”He looked up at the full bag. “Looks like we’ve got a while. And I guess I’m not making that test today. C’est la vie, right?” John sighed and Sherlock snapped to full attention. “Hey this is a huge bed” John waved an arm over the space next to him, “why don’t you come up here with me?”

Instead of a reply, Sherlock simply got up, and stuffed his lanky form into the hospital bed, both of them on their sides, knees touching, faces inches apart.

 

“Have you been here the whole time? Hey, did you give me CPR? John asked searching deep into Sherlock’s eyes for honesty.

Sherlock nodded, “Yes to both. I didn’t leave you John. I could never leave you.” Sherlock vowed solemnly, causing John to lift a wired up hand to caress his cheek.

 

“I’ll always be there for you too Sherlock, you know that right?”

Sherlock broke their gaze, and stared at an apparently interesting spot on the bed.

“Hey.” John almost whispered, as he moved his hand to lift Sherlock’s chin. “How’s my board? It’s it okay?”

This pulled a deep laugh out of Sherlock, breaking the tension, and both men smiled at one another.

“Yeah, I think it’s fine.” Sherlock gave another huff of laughter, and leaned across to wipe the smile off John’s face, with his own lips.

 

The kiss was salty, and dry, but neither one seemed to mind. They were just content to have this moment with one another. They’d spent months dancing around each others affections, and it had all built up to this kiss. This firm, but loving kiss that they shared for the first time, in an uncomfortable hospital bed. Sherlock wrapped an arm lightly around John, and began rubbing his back again while pressing steadily into him.

 

John hummed in approval, and opened his mouth, giving Sherlock’s tongue passage. They lapped and sucked on each other's mouths greedily. The heated exchange made John’s heart race, and his machinery started beeping loudly in response. It was enough for a nurse to make his way into the room.

 

“AHEM. Excuse me sir. You need to get out of the patients bed. You’re speeding up his heart rate too much. In fact, it’s probably best if you leave now.”

“Fine.”Sherlock harrumph’ed out of bed, and turned back to John. “I’m going to head back to the flat, change outta my suit, get some clothes for you, and come back to pick you up, and take you home. Is that alright?”

 

“Of course Sherlock, thank you.” John was incredibly touched, by how easily Sherlock lept at the chance to take care of him. He’d never thought of his flat-mate as a compassionate fellow, but he might be wrong about a lot of things.  

 

The nurse, satisfied that Sherlock was leaving, stepped out quietly. Sherlock moved to follow him, but John called out.

“Wait, Sherlock, come back.”  
Sherlock rushed back over to his bedside in two strides, with a furrowed brow, “What’s wrong.”

“I didn’t get a kiss goodbye.” He said with a wicked smile.

 

“That nurse just yelled at me about raising your heart rate, shouldn’t a future doctor be heeding medical advice?’ 

“Shouldn't _you_ listen to your hot boyfriend, who just wants a single little kiss?” 

“Oh, are we boyfriends now?”

John stuttered, “If...if you're okay with that.”

 

“Actually.” Sherlock leaned down into John till their foreheads touched, “I love it.” And captured his lips in another deeply passionate kiss. Sherlock’s hands shot out to cover most of John’s head, gripping at his short hair, until the monitors started beeped again, and Sherlock pulled away. He straighted up and walked hastily towards the door before he changed his mind, as he desperately wanted to climb back into that bed again.

 

Sherlock turned around at the door, “Go to sleep John, be back soon.”

“On it, thanks again, Sherlock.”

Sherlock gave him a wink and was gone.

John fell asleep smiling, knowing that when he woke up, _his_ Sherlock would be there.

He could hardly wait.

 


End file.
